


Ashes

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Ideas anyone?, Newt/Anathema - Freeform, Random - Freeform, We need a ship name for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:17:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "So…" Newt trailed off awkwardly, blinking owlishly at the book on the table. "What are we going to do with it now?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a relatively fluffy fic, about what Newt and Anathema do with the second book. Enjoy.

“So…” Newt trailed off awkwardly, blinking owlishly at the book on the table. “What are we going to do with it now?”

Anathema shrugged, flicking her hair back from her shoulder. Absent – mindedly, she bit her thumbnail, gazing at Newt.

“Couldn’t you, um, do something to it? Since you’re, um, kind of a witch…”                  

Anathema burst into laughter, giggling at the strange expression on Newt’s face. She shook her head, smiling sweetly.

“Newt! I can’t just magic it away! That’s not how it works,” she grinned.

“Oh,” Newt muttered, glasses rapidly steaming up. A pink tinge coated his cheeks. “How does it work, then?”

Anathema smiled conspiratorially, almost winking but then thinking the better of it. “Secret,” she whispered, poking Newt’s nose with a painted fingernail. He frowned, wrinkling his face up.

They both fell silent, each waiting for the other to speak. Newt was still blushing furiously, glasses completely steamed up. Hastily, he wiped them on his shirt, desperately thinking of something to say.

A devious grin appeared on his face, lighting up his (rather red) features. “We should burn it,” he whispered, eyes alight. Anathema laughed incredulously.

“Seriously?” she laughed. “Burn it?” Newt looked slightly reproachful.

“Well, why not?” he asked. “Think of it like this – you will have that book forever if you don’t burn it. Even if you don’t read it, it’ll always be there. You’ll still know it’s there. And that’s not good enough.”

Anathema started to raise an eyebrow, but then realized he had a point. It wasn’t good enough.

“Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

 

After several attempts at lighting the slightly damp bracken outside Anathema’s house, they finally managed to ignite something, at least. A tiny, vulnerable flame flickered amongst the grass. Newt desperately blew on it, watching it slowly grow bigger. Excitedly, he turned to Anathema, beaming. “It’s working!” he exclaimed.

 Anathema beamed back, and sat next to Newt, crossing her legs jauntily across the dried leaves. Her warm breath tingled Newt’s neck, and goosebumps prickled across his skin. She leaned next to him, softly warming the fire with her breath.

Newt paused just to stare at her, watching the way her hair fell across her eyes, the way she leaned over the leaves. Her hand rested just next to Newt’s. The fingernails were bitten and the polish was chipped, but sappy as it was, he felt like holding it.

 However, he refrained from doing so, and instead hastily returned to looking at the fire when Anathema turned to him.  

The flame was sizable now, moving gently in the calm air. Newt bit his lip, looking slightly worried. “Do you, um, think it’s really safe to light a fire out here?”

Anathema looked at him dubiously. “Of course it’s not,” she said. Newt gulped.

“Relax, Newty,” she said, shaking his shoulder. He grinned. “Newty?” he giggled. She merely nodded in response.

Almost reverently, Newt reached for the book, small hands closing around the square shape. “Are you ready?” he asked, staring deeply into Anathema’s eyes. She paused for a second, then nodded, grabbing the book, and ripping out a fistful of yellowed pages. Without even looking, she dumped them into the fire, watching the flames eat at the paper.

A grin slowly spread across her face. “That felt good,” she whispered.

Newt took the book from her and tore a handful out, laughing as the pages burst into flames.

“I feel like a maniac,” he breathed. Anathema smiled, and nodded. “Me too,” she said firmly, dumping the whole book into the fire and watching it reverently as it burned. It was over. No more being an ancestor, no more reading the book constantly, no more devoting her life to the prophecies. She was free. For the first time in her life, she was completely, unconditionally free.

“You’re possibly the craziest girl I’’ve met,” Newt muttered, looking a little surprised. Anathema turned, and stared into his face, eyes alight with a strange freedom. She thought about it for a second, considering.

Then she kissed him.

When they pulled back, Newt was out of air, face red hot. He grinned mischievously.

“You know, you’re not devoted to the book anymore,” he started. “So nobody can predict what we do next. And maybe that prediction about us was wrong…” he trailed off, hoping Anathema would get the cue.

“You dork,” she said, and playfully pushed him over, watching him giggle as what was left of her past shriveled and died out.


End file.
